Time in a Bottle
by LadyChris
Summary: C, S, V, B, : Chris helps a wounded Vin recover from the loss of Charlotte by relating the story of how he met Sarah


Title: Time in a Bottle

Author: LadyChris

E-Mail: ladychrisfic@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: The main characters in this story do not belong to me. I am not profiting off this story. Don't bother suing, I have no money.

Ratings: PG 13 for language and violence

Warnings: This story takes place after the episode Wagon Train. There aren't really too many spoilers for the other episodes, but there are references and insinuations. 

AuthorÕs notes: This story is the result of my New Year's resolution to try something creative this year. Since creativity is not my strong point, I figured the easiest thing I could do (so I thought) would be to write a fanfic story, something 6 or 7 pages long with lots of action and adventure. Two weeks and 23 pages later I found to my absolute horror that I had written a smarmy, h/c, love story. I don't know where this story came from. It just sort of poured out of me as I typed (I only wished I could have done that while I was still in school!). I hope all of you enjoy it.

I have to extend a big THANK YOU to my beta readers, Judy and Katie for their kind words and advice.

Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames will be ignored.

Archive: Yes, please

Time in a Bottle

by LadyChris

Part 1

"Karen! Robert! Hurry up now! We're going to be late! We don't want to keep Reverend Sanchez waiting!" Gloria Potter sighed as she waited for her two children to finish dressing for Sunday morning church services. The anniversary of her husband's murder had come and gone and she and her children could finally could wear colorful clothing out of the house. Every Sunday ever since Rev. Sanchez had begun rebuilding the old church in town, Mrs. Potter and her two children met with him for Sunday services. Most of the time it was only the Potters who attended, but occasionally one or two other families would join them. Many people were a little suspicious of Rev. Sanchez. Rumors of his past and his penchant for quoting from other beliefs kept many people away. But Gloria Potter knew underneath he was a good man.

The service itself was nothing elaborate. Some scripture reading, some hymn singing, but instead of a formal sermon Rev. Sanchez would simply sit and talk to Mrs. Potter and the children. At first he would ask simple, regular questions -how were they, were they getting along okay without Mr. Potter, did she need any help moving supplies for the store, did she need any financial assistance and other practical matters. Then after a few weeks he slowly delved into more spiritual matters, when the children felt more comfortable asking questions like was their daddy in heaven, why did God let him get shot, and why were there bad people like the Jameses?

"Mama! I can't find my green barrettes!"

"Did you check in the pockets of your green dress?" Mrs. Potter heard some rustling from her daughter's room. 

"I found them!"

"Now hurry along, children. I'm giving you five minutes and then I'm going to get angry!" Mrs. Potter smiled to herself and rechecked her hair in the mirror, patting a stray hair into place. Even in her early forties, she was still a handsome woman, and she wanted to look her best, now that she was available again for marriage. Hopefully she could now catch the eye of Rev. Sanchez. Oh, she had heard the rumors of him pursuing that painted up Mrs. Standish, but Mrs. Standish was not a resident and Mrs. Potter lived right near the church. 

Both the Potter children exited their rooms and presented themselves for inspection. 

"Ready, Mama. Oh, Mama is that your new dress?" said Karen.

"Wow, Mama, you look real nice," complimented Robert. 

"Thank you, you both look real nice today too." Quickly she opened the door and ushered her children out onto the porch and started crossing diagonally the main street of Four Corners towards the church. The sun was bright and the street was empty this cool spring morning.

"Mrs. Potter! Mrs. Potter! Help me!" Mrs. Potter turned towards the sound of the voice yelling at her. She saw the leader of the Seven, Mr. Larabee, slowly riding into town on his black with what appeared to be Mr. Tanner in front of him, slumped over the saddle. 

"Children, run to the church and get Rev. Sanchez, quick as you can!" Mrs. Potter immediately ran over to Mr. Larabee's horse.

"He's been shot, ma'am, and I can't hold him! He's going to fall!" There was nothing else to be done. Mr. Tanner was too heavy for her to hold up while Mr. Larabee lifted him off the saddle, so Mrs. Potter simply let Mr. Tanner fall on top of her, hoping that her body was enough of a cushion to break the fall. 

Vin let out a cry of agony as his body tumbled on top of Mrs. Potter. Immediately, Mr. Larabee was at her side, gently pulling Mr. Tanner off of her and laying him on the ground. 

"I'm sorry ma'am, I just couldn't hold him up any longer." Mrs. Potter immediately saw why, Mr. Larabee had been shot as well in the left arm. 

"What happened, Mr. Larabee? Was it those rustlers we've been having trouble with?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Mr. Larabee, now picking up Mr. Tanner's upper body and cradling him in his arms.

Mrs. Potter accepted the answer and didn't push any further. She didn't know Mr. Larabee very well, but she did know that he wasn't one to talk a lot. She would find out what happened later on. In the meantime, she started ripping off the lower edge of her now bloody dress to use as bandages for Mr. Tanner. 

***************************

"Nathan, I keep telling you to move to the first floor!" Buck grunted as he struggled with Nathan to get Vin's body up the stairs to Nathan's clinic. 

"Yeah, and whose goin' to pay for that move, you?" Nathan shot back. 

"Knock it off, both of you, right now." Chris's labored breathing was getting worse with each step he took up the stairs. Even with Josiah supporting him, Chris had lost a lot of blood and used up most of his strength trying to get Vin back to town alive. Finally, they all made it up to the clinic and immediately Nathan set to work.

"He was shot in the back?" asked Nathan.

Chris nodded. "He took the bullet for me. Knocked me out of the way and he got nailed right between the shoulder blades."

"All right, all of you, outta here. I gotta lot of work to do." Nathan started ripping off Vin's shirt and examining his wound.

"I'm staying," said Chris with quiet defiance.

"No you ain't, Chris. I have to concentrate and I don't need you gettin' under foot. Josiah, take Chris into the other room and see what you can do with his arm."

Chris contemplated resisting, but with his waning strength there was no way he could fight off Josiah, and if Buck decided to join in. . .

"All right, I'll go, but you call me if *anything* happens."

Nathan just nodded his head, his concentration already focused solely on helping Vin.

*****************************

See Part 1 for disclaimer

Part 2

"What happened out there, pard?" Buck quietly asked Chris as Josiah bandaged up Chris's left arm. They were in a second room next to Nathan's at the boarding house. Nathan occasionally used this room if he had more than one patient and there were no other paying customers at the boarding house. Josiah had removed the bullet and cauterized the wound, but Chris refused the laudanum he offered. The laudanum would have made him sleepy and Chris was determined to stay awake until they knew if Vin was going to survive. Mrs. Potter had gotten word to Ezra, JD, and Mary, who now joined them in their vigil.

"I went out on patrol, figuring I would check out the Marshalls' ranch and circle around past James' ranch and then Royal's. The rustlers hadn't hit any of those ranches yet. James and Royal have been pretty quiet lately. Vin insisted on joining me. He was pretty forceful about it too. "

"He's been doing that a lot lately," said Mary. "Working extra shifts, helping out more with the townsfolk. . ." 

"But Vin has always done that," broke in J.D.

"Yeah, but he's been doing it a lot more," interjected Buck. "I mean we all pull our own weight and lend a hand if someone asks, but I haven't seen Vin at the saloon in almost a week. It's almost as if. . .as if. . ." Buck struggled for the words he was looking for.

"It's almost as if he's tryin' to make up for abandoning our party during our encounter with Dicky O'Shea." Everyone turned to look at Ezra who had been quiet up until now. "Well, he did," continued Ezra, a little defensively, "and he feels regretful about the incident. Vin takes a very solemn outlook on friendships and I think he is seeking redemption for abdicating his responsibilities."

It took J.D. a second to figure out what Ezra said, then he replied, "But Vin came back to warn us about the extra men." 

"He did come back," said Josiah, "but for some men, saying you're sorry isn't enough. They feel they have to prove themselves all over again. Even when they've been forgiven."

"That would explain why he took that bullet for me." All eyes turned toward Chris. "We spotted the rustlers near the James' ranch. We snuck around the perimeter of their group. Took out four of them before they could get to the cattle. The noise woke up James and all his boys an' then they came barrelin' out, guns blazin'. They didn't know me an' Vin were out there tryin' to help. I caught one in the arm. James managed to get close enough to spot me, and then he took aim. He knew I wasn't one of the rustlers, but that didn't matter to him. Next thing I know Vin jumps in front of me, knocks me out of the way and catches James's bullet in the back. James just smirked, walked back into his ranch and closed the door, leavin' his boys to fight off the rustlers." 

Chris closed his eyes and leaned his head back, remembering how he struggled to pick up Vin and get him to safety behind a tree while he went to retrieve his black. It felt like hours before he could get Vin up on the saddle and start towards town. He also remembered something else.

"J.D., Ezra, would you go out towards James's ranch and see if Vin's horse is out there? I couldn't take the time to try and find him."

"Don't worry, Chris we'll get him. If I have to beat the hell out of Stewart James myself, we'll get him," promised J.D.

"No! You stay away from James. If Vin lives, we leave James alone. . ."

"Are you out of you mind, Chris! That son-of-a-bitch should be tarred, feathered, and buried alive for this!" yelled Buck.

"Shhhh," Mary hushed him, "you'll distract Nathan."

"We can't prove that he intended to shoot me on purpose. It was dark, there was a lot of gunfire and a man has a right to protect his property from thieves. He would just claim that he thought I was one of them. But if Vin dies, then Stewart James is mine," Chris glared at everyone in the room individually. No one argued with him.

Mary opened the door to let Ezra and J.D. out only to find Mrs. Potter on the other side just about to knock. 

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she said to Chris as she quietly walked in, "and to check on Mr. Tanner."

"I'll be fine, we don't know about Vin yet." Chris quietly regarded Mrs. Potter for a moment. "I'm sorry to involve you and your children in this. It looks like I owe you a new dress." 

Gloria Potter shook her head and looked down briefly at the bloody and torn dress she still wore. "No, Mr. Larabee, you don't owe me a thing. A dress can be easily replaced. A life cannot. I only wish there was more I could do to help you." 

"How are your children holdin' up?" Josiah inquired.

"They're holding their own, Reverend. They didn't see much, but I think just the frightening nature of the incident has brought back some of the bad feelings they had after their father was killed." 

"Why don't I escort you back home, Mrs. Potter, and I'll have a little talk with them." Josiah offered Mrs. Potter his arm.

"Thank you, Reverend Sanchez." Mrs. Potter smiled gratefully as she took his arm.

"Please, call me Josiah."

Josiah left followed by J.D. and Ezra.

"Mary, you better get back and take care of Billy," Chris suggested. "We're probably going to be here for awhile. Buck, why don't you escort Mrs. Travis back home."

"Now hold on there, pard. Vin's my friend too. I'm not going to leave until I know what. . ."

"If anything happens, I'll let you know. We really riled those rustlers and they may try somethin' here in town. I would feel much better if I knew Mary had someone to escort her back."

"All right, pard. It's your call." Buck turned towards Mary. "Mrs. Travis?" 

"Thank you, Buck." Mary took his arm, "Chris. . ."

"I'll let you know, Mary." Mary smiled sadly and left with Buck.

*************************************

See Part 1 for disclaimer

Part 3

Several hours later, Nathan emerged from his room and entered the room next door. He found Chris sleeping in the same chair he occupied that morning when Josiah removed the bullet from Chris's arm. Nathan quietly crossed the floor to gently shake Chris awake. Chris woke up with a jolt that nearly sent him tumbling to the floor.

"How is he?" Chris demanded.

"I removed the bullet and he's alive. The bullet wasn't that deep and it missed his spine," Chris nodded, somewhat relieved at Nathan's assessment. "I just don't know how his body is goin' to react. I don't think he's paralyzed, but I have no way of knowing for sure until the swelling around the area goes down."

"I want to see him." Chris started to get up out of the chair he had occupied ever since Josiah removed the bullet from his arm.

"No, you're ain't," Nathan stopped Chris before he could cross the room. "He's fast asleep and that's the way he's goin' to stay for a long while. And you, friend, need to get some sleep too."

Chris just glared at Nathan.

"He's going to need a lot of care, Chris. He won't be able to do much for himself. That's not exactly the position a friend wants to be seen in by another friend, no matter how close they are."

"Doesn't matter. He's my responsibility now. I *will* care for him."

Seeing Chris's unyielding determination, Nathan tiredly nodded his head. "All right, I'll have another cot moved in here and you can take care of him. But you have to take care of *yourself* too. Don't try to lift him with that arm of yours, wait for me or Josiah to help. And. . ."

"I know, I know, get some sleep."

****************************

Vin regained consciousness after three days. Chris explained the situation. Vin nodded quietly and didn't say anything else. The wound in his back started to heal and five days later Vin found he could move his arms and legs. Soon he was able to lie on his back long enough to sit up and eat on his own. The other five men visited every day, as did Mary and Mrs. Potter. Nettie Wells even came into town twice that week. Each lady always brought home baked foods and other treats for Vin. 

Vin made polite conversation with his visitors, but other than that he didn't talk much. This normally would have been okay with Chris, since neither man was the talkative type. Yet, Vin's silence seemed to be different from his usual quiet, self-assured silence. This silence seemed moody, even depressed, which didn't fit with the good news of his recovery. Chris didn't pry, though. He was the last person in the world who had any right to disturb a man's private thoughts.

On the seventh day of his recovery, Vin finally decided to talk. Chris had removed his own sling that morning and was quietly gazing out the window at the town.

"How can you stand to be in the same room with me?"

Chris turned and stared at Vin, who was lying flat on his back staring at the ceiling. "What are you talking about?"

"I betrayed you. Ran out on you, and the others. I got no business riding with you. Why are you here, takin' care of me like this?"

"You're a friend, Vin. You apologized for what happened with Charlotte. We forgave you. You don't need to prove anything else to us. Not anymore."

"I almost gave it all up," a tear started to form at the edge of Vin' eye. "I almost gave up everything and everyone that ever meant anything to me, for something that wasn't real."

"What are you sayin', Vin."

"How do you know when it's real?" whispered Vin.

"How do you know when what's real?" queried Chris.

Vin looked a little embarrassed, but also sad. "You know, with a woman?"

"Oh, hell, Vin. How should I know?"

"You're the only one who would. You're the only who's been married, had a family." Vin's voice took on a note of desperation. Chris closed his eyes against the wave of pain that seared through him. He rode it out, though, something he'd only been able to do for the past four months. Hank's death reminded him of his pledge to find the man who hired Fowler to murder his family, but it still wasn't enough to drive him to the brink of drunken oblivion as it would have a year ago. He could deal with the pain now, which was some sort of victory.

"What's gotten into you, Vin? What've you been tryn' to prove by takin' the extra shifts and prowlin' around town lookin' for good deeds to do?" Chris paused. "Why did you take that bullet for me?"

"I just want to make it right again," Vin lifted his head and pointed to his chest, to his heart, "in here, I need to make it right in here."

Chris left the window and sat down next to the bed. Gently he placed his hand on Vin's arm. 

"You loved Charlotte," he said quietly, "and you lost her. I can understand how that hurts."

"No. I didn't love her. I thought I did. It felt right, wantin' to take care of her, make her feel good, give her what her husband wouldn't. But it wasn't real. She didn't really love me and I almost gave up the only real family I ever had for her." Chris eyes reflected shock that Vin would say that. He knew Vin held his mother in high regard, especially since she died so young, when he was only five. To have him call the six men he worked with his "real" family meant a lot.

"That's why I gotta know, Chris, how do you know when it's real? If I ever get this bounty off my head, I'm not gonna want to spend the rest of my life without someone special, but I don't want to experience what happened with Charlotte ever again."

Chris sighed. He had been such a different man when he first met Sarah. Could the man he was today explain how the man he was then knew when it's real?

******************************

See Part 1 for disclaimer

Part 4

*12 years prior*

"Leave me alone, George. I don't have an answer for you."

George Cromwell literally dragged Sarah Conolly off the street and into an alley.

"I'm tired of waiting for an answer, Sarah. I want to know when we're getting married."

"That's not fair, George. You know I can't marry you until my father consents. He hasn't consented, so we can't get married." Sarah looked up into George's dirty, pinched face, hoping that her ruse would work. She had known George since they were toddlers. Luckily she has always been able to talk circles around him. Today shouldn't be any different.

"Well, he better decide soon, Sarah. You're almost twenty years old. There aren't a whole lot of men in this town willing to marry an old maid."

"George, that's a horrible thing to say." Now she could smell the liquor on his breath. "George, have you been drinking?"

"So what if I've been?"

"Well, my father certainly isn't going to let me marry a drunk. You better go sober up."

George suddenly grabbed her hair by the back of her head and dragged her face closer to his, "We ain't married yet, Sarah Connolly. You can't tell me what I can do." Taking advantage of vulnerable position, George pulled Sarah head closer to him and tried to stuff his tongue down her throat. Sarah gagged and out of instinct bit down hard enough to draw blood.

"You stupid bitch!" George yelled and slapped Sarah with the back of his hand across her face.

"Did you just hit that lady?" Sarah and George turned at hearing the new voice. There was a tall man standing at the mouth of the alley. He was wearing a blue shirt, tan jeans, and a matching duster. He also carried a gun at his hip. He walked right up to George, looked him in the eyes, and repeated his question.

"Did you just hit that lady?" 

"This ain't any of your business, mister," sneered George.

"It is now," the stranger calmly replied. He held out his hand to Sarah. "Come with me. I'll take you home."

Sarah hesitantly took the stranger's hand. He guided her out of the alley backwards, never taking his eyes off George, who just stood there with his hand on his bleeding mouth dumbly looking after them.

"Thank you for getting me out of there," Sarah turned to the tall man beside her and tried to extricate her hand from his. They were back in public and she didn't want people to start talking. He hesitated, but let her hand go. She noticed his light hair and green eyes. He noticed the bruise on her cheek. He reached out and lightly touched her face.

"You should put some ice on that."

"It's not that bad," Sarah replied. "What is your name?"

"Chris."

"Just Chris?" He nodded.

"Well, Just Chris, thank you again." She turned to walk away, but he gently pulled her back.

"Wait a minute. Who was that guy and why was he slappin' you around?"

Sarah wasn't sure how much she should confide in this stranger because he was staring at her in a way that was making her heart thump like it never had before, so she decided to keep it simple. "He just an overgrown schoolyard bully. I've known him since he was a child. About a month ago he decided we should get married. He's always been.... difficult, but this is the first time I've seen him get violent. I think it's his newfound love of drinking that's making him act this way." Sarah shrugged her shoulders, but didn't break eye contact. "Just Chris" was still staring at her and her heart was still thumping, but she'd be damned if she'd let him know that.

"Just Chris" reached out with his hand and made like he was going to brush some strands of hair off her face when suddenly there was shouting from across the street.

"That's him! Arrest him, Sheriff! That's the man who attacked me! He's threatenin' Sarah! Arrest him!" It was George, practically dragging the sheriff over to where Sarah and Chris were standing.

"Now don't get your knickers in a twist there, Mr. Cromwell," replied the Sheriff, "you let me do some questionin' here before I go arrestin' anyone. How are you doin' today Miss Sarah?" the Sheriff politely addressed the young, brown-haired woman.

"Just fine, Sheriff."

"Did this gentleman," the Sheriff nodded to Just Chris, "accost you against your will?"

"No, sir."

Immediately George interrupted, "She's confused and afraid of this man 'cuz he's got a gun. I'm telln' you, he's dangerous. You should arrest him!

"And I said, I'll do the questionin' around here!" snapped the mustachioed sheriff. The sheriff turned to the blond-haired man. "Now, you want to tell me who you are and what you were doin' with Miss Sarah in that alleyway?"

The blond-haired man didn't reply right away. Instead he took a step closer to the much taller Sheriff and stared directly into his blue eyes as if he were looking into the man's soul. But instead of being frightened like George Cromwell, the Sheriff met the man's stare with one of his own. Suddenly, the Sheriff let out a war whoop. "Why if it ain't Captain Christopher Larabee, Union Army!" 

'Captain Christopher Larabee' lightly smiled back at the sheriff. "Lt. Bucklin Wilmington, Union Army. Almost didn't recognize you with that mustache." Chris reached out to shake the Sheriff's hand only to find it crushed in bone crunching grip.

"You two know each other?" choked George.

"Sure do," said the sheriff still smiling a mile wide. "I served with Captain Larabee in the calvery, but we were in different units. He had quite a reputation. Yes, quite a reputation. Why I remember the stories they used to tell about you . . ."

"I *don't* care who he is. I want him arrested! Sheriff, this man is a menace. He threatened me and attacked Sarah . . ."

"I thought you said he attacked *you* and threatened *Sarah*?" questioned Sheriff Wilmington.

George's puckered face flushed a crimson red, "The details don't matter. This man is a menace and I want him arrested!" 

"I'm *not* arrestin' anyone until I get the other side of the story. Miss Sarah, could you please help me out here?" The sheriff asked with such a look of exasperation on his face that Sarah had to laugh. 

"It was all just a misunderstanding. George and I got into a little fight and Mr. Larabee intervened on my behalf." 

"But who was the one who hit you?" Sheriff Wilmington pressed now that Sarah's bruise was becoming more pronounced. 

"It was *just* a misunderstanding, Sheriff. I would rather this not become an official issue." Sarah raised her chin and did not back down. 

The sheriff nodded, but he clearly was not happy about the situation. He was fairly certain that Captain Larabee wouldn't hit a woman and he was equally sure this George fella would. Damn! Nothing made him angrier that seeing a woman abused. But the law was the law and if were no witnesses willing to testify and no hard evidence there really wasn't anything he could do about it. 

"All right. I want this situation dropped." The Sheriff pointed a finger at George, "*You* are to stay away from her. If you get so much as with twenty feet of her, I'll personally take you apart. Now get out of my face before I change my mind!" George quickly fled the scene. Sheriff Wilmington turned to face Chris Larabee, " *You* and I are going out for a drink at the saloon, just as soon as I escort the young lady back home." 

"That's quite all right, Sheriff. My buckboard is at the livery. I can get home just fine by myself," said Sarah confidently. "Besides you know how my father feels about strange men on our property."

Sheriff Wilmington laughed, remembering the number of young men he escorted to the doctor's office after they had a run in with old Hank Connolly. Miss Sarah did have a point there. But as she turned to leave, she was stopped again by Chris Larabee.

"May I see you again?" he asked politely.

Sarah stared into his green eyes. Her heart certainly wanted to see him again, but her head was saying that this man was dangerous. If her father challenged this man, she wasn't sure if her father would survive the encounter. Still, George was right, she wasn't getting any younger and she did not want to become an old maid.

"I come to town every Sunday for church. If you're still in town on Sunday, I'm sure we'll run into each other."

Chris smiled. "I'm sure we will." He watched her as she walked away.

"She's one fine filly," remarked Sheriff Wilmington as he watched Chris watch Sarah walk away.

"Yes, she is," agreed Chris.

"C'mon, Captain, let's go have that drink," Buck Wilmington lightly slapped Chris on the shoulder.

"It's just Chris now," Chris replied and followed Buck down the narrow street toward the nearest saloon.

**********************************

All the way home Sarah thought about her reasons for not telling the sheriff what really happened and having George arrested. She knew George deserved to spend time in jail for slapping her, but there were plenty of men in this town who slapped women around without thinking it wrong and in fact supported it. Sheriff Wilmington had only been in town for three months and she didn't know him well enough to know how he felt about women being beaten. If the situation did turn into a trial she didn't want herself or her father held up to that kind of ridicule.

Her father. How was she going to explain Mr. Larabee to her father? He usually came into town with her on Sundays. He hadn't gone to church since her mother died when she was three, but he would go down to the sheriff's office and read the Sunday paper or talk with any of the other men who were waiting for the wives who attended church. Mr. Larabee didn't strike her as being the church-going type, so if she was going to meet him, it would probably have to be after services. Sarah sighed. If Mr. Larabee and her father were to meet, it might as well be sooner rather than later. If Hank ran off Mr. Larabee, well that would be that. But if Mr. Larabee ran off Hank, well. . . Sarah suddenly grinned. She always thought that the man of her dreams, the one she would marry, would be the man who could stand up to her father and win.

*******************************

At the same moment, Chris and Buck were enjoying a beer at the saloon. 

"Let me tell you somethin', Chris, you sure caused some waves when you resigned your commission," said Buck before taking a sip of his beer. "Everyone thought you were on the fast track to becomin' a general. There were a lot of rumors going around about why you left, but I think I know the truth."

Chris shrugged. His reasons for fighting in the War were different from most others, but he never felt he had to justify that. And he never talked about why he left either. Most of the men he served with wouldn't care or would be glad that he left. 

When Chris didn't comment, Buck continued, "For what it's worth, some of the soldiers who fought with you, followed you. Not many, but some." Chris was surprised that anyone would follow his lead to the point where they would actually resign from the army because he had. He looked a Buck in a whole new light.

Buck raised his glass in a toast, "To our comrades who didn't make it. May they rest in peace."

Chris clinked his glass with Buck and drank down his share of beer. 

*******************************

"Absolutely not! No daughter of mine is going to be seen carousing with some outlaw!" fumed Sarah's father, Hank.

"But, Daddy, he saved me from George! The least I could do was agree to meet with him after church. And you said yourself, he's not an outlaw, just a gunfighter." Sarah's father had noticed the bruise on her face as soon as she got home. He had forced her to explain, so she told him about the incident with George and Mr. Larabee. It turned out Hank knew of Mr. Larabee by reputation. Thankfully Sarah hadn't even had time to remove the dishes from the cupboard for dinner when Hank exploded, first about George slapping her, then about Mr. Larabee.

Hank rolled his eyes heavenward, "'Just a gunfighter' she says. Honey, gunfighters are sometimes worse than an outlaw. At least with an outlaw you know what your gettin'. A gunfighter will sweet talk you with all the right words and all the pretty presents and maybe even mean what he says. But the minute someone challenges him, *BANG* he's out there in the middle of the street with his gun drawn ready to get himself killed over any stupid little thing that plucks his nerves. Do you want to live with that? Do you want to have to wait at home every day of your life wondering if he was coming home or not? Wondering if maybe he found some other pretty little lass to warm his bed. . ."

"That's enough, Dad! He didn't ask me to marry him, just to meet him after church to talk."

"And that's where it starts," said Hank placatingly, walking over to Sarah. "Sarah, honey, listen to your daddy. I know what I'm talkin' about. This man ain't right for you." He hugged his daughter closely. "Now you wouldn't want to leave your daddy all by himself, would you? No one can love you like your daddy."

Sarah swallowed her frustration. It was the same speech she had heard ever since she was five years old when she threatened to run away from home and join the circus. Same words, same tone. Guilt ran through her like a river and Sarah suspected her father knew it. She would just have to wait and see how things played out at church on Sunday. She would have to either find away to make peace with these two men or make a choice between them.

********************************

See Part 1 for disclaimer

Part 5

Bells rang out as small children poured out the front doors of the church. Parents and grandparents followed. Last to appear on the steps, Sarah Connolly stopped and surveyed the scene before her. Her father waited for her with the buckboard at the beginning of the main road heading east, his shotgun clutched firming in his grip. To the west at the edge of the forest was Mr. Chris Larabee, casually leaning against a tree, politely waiting for her to appear. He looked very handsome standing there with his hat hanging back on his shoulders and his hair slicked back. Sarah swore that she could feel his eyes boring into her. Why did the man have to look so intense just standing there waiting for her? She had agonized over this choice, to either follow the footpath east to her father and head home with him, or follow it west to the edge of the forest to be with a man she hardly knew.

"Excuse me, dearie, I believe I forgot my purse inside."

"Huh? Oh Miss Greta, I'm sorry I didn't see you standing there." Sarah moved to the side as she let old Miss Greta move past her. Miss Greta had grown up in this town. She worked as a nurse with Doc Sanders until he died three years ago. She never married, never had children. Now the only time she left her home was when her neighbors kindly brought her to the market and to church. She relied on her neighbors to help her with various chores that she could no longer do alone because she didn't have any family to help her.

*Do you want to wind up like that, Sarah?* a niggling little voice inside her head asked. *Do you want to wind up alone, with only the memory of your father to give you comfort at night?*

Was she talking to herself now or did this voice belong to someone else?

*Daddy will be fine by himself,* the voice continued, *Or he can live with you, become a part of your family. If your daddy pushes you away because of who you fall in love with, it will be his choice to be alone, not yours.*

*But I don't know this other man. What if Daddy's right and he gets killed tomorrow in a gunfight or leaves me for another women?* This was the practical Sarah, talking to herself in her own voice.

*And what if he does?* the first voice chided her. *You'll never know what he will or will not do if you don't give him the chance.*

Sarah took a deep breath, thought *I'm sorry, Daddy,* and she walked down the stairway onto the footpath and headed west towards Chris Larabee. When she approached, she could see a quiet smile spread across his rugged features.

"I wasn't sure you were going to make it my way," he remarked.

"I wasn't sure either," replied Sarah honestly.

"That your father over there? "Chris nodded his head in the direction of Hank.

"Yes."

"He looks like he's ready to kill both of us."

"He just might. Let's go somewhere. The footpath continues into the woods and will bring us to a stream. We can follow that to the mill."

"All right."

They walked in silence for a while. Chris seemed comfortable with the quietness and she always hated the nonsensical chatter that her girlfriends used whenever they were around boys, so she also held her tongue. 

*This is a man, not a boy*. That damn voice was back again.

*I know that, now leave me alone so I can concentrate on where we're going and not get lost.*

They walked for about half an hour until they reached the clearing where an old rotting mill stood. Chris laid his duster out on the grass by the edge of the river and invited Sarah to join him. Sarah sat down next to Chris, but Chris decided to lay back, stretch out, and enjoy the sunshine. 

"How do you know about this place? It's so far off the beaten path." Chris turned slightly onto his side to get a better look at Sarah.

Sarah's heart started thumping again at the sight of sunlight on Chris' blond hair. "My mother used to take me here when I was a baby. She died when I was three. Daddy used to tell me that no matter how much she tried to keep me away from the water, I would always go crawling towards it whenever she placed me on the ground. When I was older, before she got too sick to walk all the way out here, she would dip me in the water and make me laugh with funny faces when she brought me back up."

"Years later, after she died of the fever, my girlfriends and I used to play hide and seek out here after church. As we got older, the boys would sometimes sneak up here after us and chase us around out here trying to catch us and toss us into the water. More often than not, the boys would fall in while trying to catch us. Then we all grew up and one by one my girlfriends got married and moved away and it was no fun to come down here without my them."

"What about the boys?"

"I got tired of being chased by boys, so I stopped coming." Sarah turned towards Chris. "What about you, Chris? Where are you from?"

Chris didn't answer right away. Sarah got the impression this wasn't something he talked about casually. "My parents were abolitionists back east before the war. They helped escaped slaves from Maryland make it up to Canada. They were also pacifists. They didn't believe that violence was the answer to settlin' problems. I grew up with that philosophy and even believed in it. For years I resisted the taunts I received from the boys at school until one night, they went too far. I was fifteen years old and a couple of my schoolmates got their hands on a gun. It must have belonged to one of their fathers. They came to our house and started taunting me from outside. I ignored them as my father taught me, but then they started tossing rocks at the house, breaking the windows. 

As the night went on, they got bolder, coming closer to the house and firin' the gun up into the air. My father tried talkin' to them, tried to make them see reason, to leave us alone. But their words only got harsher, meaner, they started sayin' things not just about me, but about my father and mother. She was scared, my mother. She didn't say it, but I could tell. My father. . .he didn't do anythin'. He wouldn't fight them. Eventually they broke into the house and started tearin' the place apart. Still my father wouldn't do anything and he would let me do anythin'. Then the boy with the gun tripped over somethin' and fell. When he fell, the gun discharged and the bullet hit my mother." Chris closed his eyes and his voice got quieter.

"I think they were more in shock than either me or my father. They just stood there watchin' my mother's blood soak into the floor. I went crazy after that. I attacked all of them at once. I never felt such a fury before in my life. It was if all my anger over the years was set loose at the same time. I almost killed one of them. I almost beat him to death. "

Sarah didn't move she just watched Chris as he rolled onto his back again and brought his hands up to his eyes. "My mom survived and the boys were arrested, but my parents weren't exactly popular because of their beliefs. Instead of goin' to jail, the judge sent them into the army. The War was still two years off, so in my eyes, it really wasn't much of a punishment."

Sarah reached over and laid a gentle hand on Chris's arm. The contact sent shivers up her spine, but she squelched the feeling. Chris was bearing his soul to her and she didn't want him to stop. "What happened to you, Chris? What happened after the trial?"

"I couldn't forgive my father for not fightin' to keep his family safe and he couldn't forgive me for givin' into my anger. I went to live with my uncle in Indiana for two years. Until the war started. Then I joined the Union Army."

"Chris, why are you telling me this?" asked Sarah.

Chris sat up again. This time he gently placed his hands on Sarah's face. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Sarah. It sounds crazy because we just met, but you're the strongest, loveliest women I've ever met. I don't want there to be secrets between us. It's best I tell you about my life now, so there's no misunderstandings."

As he talked, Chris's face moved closer to Sarah's, his intention to kiss her quite clear. Sarah held her breath waiting for his lips to descend onto hers. . . .

"Hold it right there, Larabee! Get your hands off my daughter!"

Chris froze, then slowly he backed away from Sarah. His back was towards Hank, but he heard Hank move in closer and he had no doubt that Hank had the gun pointed squarely between his shoulders.

"Sarah, get over here right now. We're leaving."

"Daddy, please, put the gun down. I don't want you to hurt Chris."

"I don't want to hear it, Sarah. I told you this man was no good for you. Now get over here!"

"No man will ever be good enough for me if you have your way," Sarah cried.

"Go with him, Sarah," Chris said quietly.

"But Chris. . ."

"It'll be alright. Go with him. There will be another time, another place, when there are no guns between us." Chris wanted to touch Sarah so badly, but he wasn't sure how good a shot Hank was and he didn't want Sarah to get hurt. Reluctantly Sarah got up and went over to her father.

"You stay away from her Larabee, or so help me you'll regret it!"

"I wouldn't do anything to hurt your daughter, Mr. Connolly," said Chris, talking over his shoulder.

"I don't want to hear it, Larabee! You just remember what I said!"

*******************************

See Part 1 for disclaimer

Part 6

Sarah stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. She hadn't cried so much since her mother's funeral. All the way home her father alternated between yelling at her for her foolishness and trying to placate her with words to make her feel guilty for choosing to love a man besides him. She never stopped crying and never looked at him.

*Am I really in love with him?* she thought to herself. *How do I know this is real? How do I know I don't just feel this way because I want to escape from my father?*

Tap, tap, tap.

*Wonderful, the branches from the tree outside my window need to be trimmed again. I'll have to ask my father, but not tonight.* 

Tap, tap, tap.

Sarah rolled over onto her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Sarah's eyes snapped open as she realized that there was a rhythm to the taping. 

Quickly she lighted the lantern next to her bed and went to the window. She saw the shadowy outline of Chris as he balanced precariously between the tree branch and her windowsill. Quickly she opened the window.

"What are you doing out there!" she hissed, not wanting to attract her father's attention. "You could've fallen and gotten yourself killed!"

"Would you have missed me?" Chris replied, slightly out of breath as he slipped through the window. 

Sarah didn't hesitate. As soon as Chris had two feet planted on the floorboards Sarah threw her arms around him and kissed him with all the pent up passion she had been trying to ignore. Taken by surprise at first, Chris took a step back, but then found his footing and started kissing her back. This continued for a minute until Sarah was completely out of breath and had to pull back. 

"Do you do this often?" Chris was still reeling a little from Sarah's unexpected attack.

"No, that was my first real kiss, in fact," replied Sarah.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I find that very difficult to believe."

"It's true. The only other time I have been kissed was when I was fourteen. One of the boys who chased me down by the river mill finally managed to catch me, but instead of tossing me into the river he pulled me close and kissed me on the lips."

Chris sat down on Sarah's bed. Without thinking about the fact that she was dressed in only her nightgown, Sarah sat down next to him. 

"What did you do?" Chris asked.

"Slapped him good and hard, of course. Just like any proper lady would." An impish grin spread across her features as Sarah remembered that moment. "In fact, I slapped him so hard, he fell into the river."

A short bark of laughter escaped from Chris's lips before he could stop it. Immediately Sarah had her hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. She listened carefully. She had left her father downstairs, whittling by the fire. She didn't hear any sounds that indicated he had gotten up and was headed towards her bedroom so she slowly removed her hand from Chris's mouth. Before her hand got far though, Chris grabbed it and brought it back to his mouth where he started to nibble on her fingers. Sarah could feel her legs getting weak. When she kissed Chris before she was so focused on doing it right that she didn't take time to feel what his body was doing to hers. But now that she was the one not in control, her mind was free to experience the pleasure his lips were bringing to her body. She enjoyed it and let out a little moan.

"Chris, stop. I really like you, no, I'm in love with you, but this isn't the time or the place. My father's still downstairs. . ."

Chris stopped the trail of kisses leading up her arm to her neck. She was right. Sarah was like no other women he had been with before and he didn't want her to become like the other women he had been with before. There was only one way he could have her, but that would have to wait. So until then, Chris let out a slow breath and pulled back.

"When did you become so wise?" he asked.

"I told you. I watched all my girlfriends grow up and get married. I've seen all the mistakes they made. Not that they're all miserable, some of the are quite happy. I guess I'm just more careful about separating my heart from my mind and body."

Chris snorted slightly. "They why me? I'm the biggest gamble you've ever made if your really in love with me."

"I don't know you. All the other boys who courted me, I could read like a book because we grew up together. But I don't know you, Chris Larabee. I feel like no matter how much you tell me, I will never really know everything there is to know about you. You're a mystery and that's very exciting."

Chris stared deeply into her eyes, "I told you, I don't want any secrets between us. If you have somethin' you want to ask me, I'll answer it as best I can."

Sarah thought about it, not sure just how far she should push this man despite what he said. But he was still staring at her with those beautiful green eyes of his. "All right, tell me why you left the army."

Chris broke eye contact with her. For a moment she thought maybe she *had* pushed too far. But Chris's eyes eventually found their way back to hers and he told her. "I was drained from years of fightin'. Things happened during the war that I won't ever describe to you, but it left me feelin' tired and sick after the war ended. It also killed most of the rage that felt that night my mother was shot."

"Remember what I said about my parents being abolitionists? Well, you don't just forget about things like that. The black slaves were free, but the army sent my unit farther west to start clearin' the Indians off their land and forcin' them onto the reservations. I couldn't do it, Sarah. It was so. . .wrong. It went against every reason that I joined the army. I tried to fight it, I wrote letters, protested to my commanding officers. It did no good. All my reasons to leave the Indians alone fell on deaf ears. Finally, my superiors had enough of my protests and threatened to court martial me if I didn't resign. Going to jail wasn't going to keep the Indians on their land, so I left." 

"And became a gunfighter," finished Sarah.

Chris grimaced. "I didn't plan it that way. All it took was one stupid kid in one backwater town to challenge me. I tried to talk him out of it, but with his all-so-holy reputation on the line, he wasn't about to back down. He fired first, but I was faster. You don't learn how to just wing someone when you're in the army. He died on the spot and my reputation grew from there." Chris shrugged. "My reputation has gotten me a few jobs over the years, but I usually wind up turnin' down more jobs than I take. There are some things that I just won't do and some people that I just won't work for."

"A gunfighter with scruples," said Sarah.

"Maybe. My father haunts me a lot. I feel like he's watchin' me still, even when he's two thousand miles away."

"Have you ever gone back to try and make you're peace with him?" asked Sarah.

"Once, right after I resigned. I wanted to make it right, I kind of felt. . .I don't know. . .lost maybe? But I still carried a gun and he wouldn't let me in the house with it. I was willing to take it off and leave it outside, but he wanted more. He wanted me to swear to never touch a gun again and I couldn't do that." Chris turned to Sarah with a fire in his eyes that almost frightened Sarah. "I will do what I have to do to protect my family, even if it means carryin' a gun." The fire died a little bit and Sarah felt a little better. "He just wouldn't accept that and so he asked me to leave and not return until I was willin' to give up my gun. I haven't gone back yet."

"Oh, Chris, I'm so sorry," whispered Sarah.

"Does it bother you? My gun, I mean," asked Chris.

Sarah thought about that. "I won't lie to you, Chris. I understand why you carry it and heaven knows my father's always kept a rifle in the house, so no, I'm not bothered by it." She paused. "But I won't marry a gunfighter. I know I'm being presumptuous because you haven't even asked, but I'm just telling you now, that if you do have honorable intentions towards me, you are going to have to find another profession besides using your gun. A gunfighter's life is too unstable and I won't raise a family under those conditions." 

Chris nodded. "I have some things that I need to work out. I love you, Sarah, never doubt that. But if I'm goin' to marry you, I want it to be proper and I want you to be safe. I do have a reputation and I can't do anythin' about that. Let me. . .check on somethin' before we rush into this. I'll meet you after church on Sunday."

Trying to hide her disappointment, Sarah nodded in return.

"Hey," Chris lifted her chin gently with his fingers and gave her a slightly mocking smile, "you're not the only one who can be practical, you know. I'm not runnin' off, I *will* be back and I'll give you a proposal that would make any proper lady proud." He kissed her again and this time they both felt something powerful building up inside of them. "I better get goin' before this goes any farther." Quickly he slipped out the window, shimmied down the tree and disappeared into the night. Sarah watched until she couldn't see him anymore and then quietly closed the window and went to bed.

***********************************

George sat in the saloon getting drunker and drunker by the minute. He used to be respected in this town. Respected because he was the baddest of them all, the leader of his posse of friends. They all followed him because he was the meanest and the strongest and he could get away with it. If they didn't do as he said, *BAM* he'd deck them as hard as he could. They sure listened to him after that. 

Suddenly things started to change. His posse started gettin' married and movin' away from town. He tried to stop it; he called them loosers and sissies for strappin' themselves to the worthless girls they'd grown up with. None of those girls were worth horse spit. . .except for Sarah. She was perfect. He had always known it, but didn't want to lose face in front of his posse. Now that all of them were gone, he could take Sarah and not worry about what the others thought. Why had it taken him so long to realize that he and Sarah were destined to get married? Why else would she have turned down all the other boys who proposed? 

'Course he'd have to take out that Larabee fella. Can't have another man touchn' his girl. Rumor had it that Larabee was fast, but George had been practicin' outside of town with his pistol. Might as well take out Sarah's father too while he was at it. He didn't need some son-of-a-bitch father-in-law hangin' around all the time. He had plans for his Sarah, lots of plans. 

************************************

See Part 1 for disclaimer

Part 7

"Eagle Bend!"

"I beg your pardon?" Chris looked up from the rings he was looking at in the display case of the local jewelry store to find Buck Wilmington sliding up right next to him.

"If you're gonin' to marry Sarah and start a family, you're best bet would be to take her to Eagle Bend," advised Buck as he jovially slapped his hand on top of the display case.

"And why would that be?" questioned Chris.

"Well, it's located far enough west of here, where no one would know or care about your past, there's plenty of land that you can buy and start your own farm or ranch, and there's a telegraph and stage connection just in case Sarah and old Hank decide to mend fences." Buck grinned with knowing eyes.

Chris sighed, but didn't ask how Buck came by all his information. For all the sheriff's philandering, Chris had observed that Buck made a very shrewd lawman and very little went on in this town that he didn't know about.

"Why do you care if Sarah and I are safe and happy? I didn't think you were the kind of guy who approved of marriage in the first place," accused Chris, but not unkindly.

Buck's normal jovial expression quieted down, and he didn't say anything, but instead studied the rings in front of him. After a minute he said, "I do approve of marriage, Chris, it's just not for me. I think that if two people are really in love, and really care about each other, then there's no reason for them not to get married." Buck paused again, "I had my eye on Sarah there for awhile. I was involved with couple of other gals at the time, so I didn't do anythin' about it, but I did watch. She's a pretty little thing, but she's real smart too. I think that maybe if I were the marryin' kind, I might not have waited so long to introduce. . ." Buck suddenly realized that maybe he had said too much, because Chris' eyes suddenly started burning a little brighter. He cleared his throat and quickly changed back to his jovial tone, "At any rate, the moment I saw the two of you together, I just knew you were the perfect couple." Buck grinned again hoping Chris didn't take his rambling too seriously.

Evidently Chris didn't because he just nodded his head and continued to study the rings in front of him.

*******************************

If rumors could kill, Sarah would have died a thousand times during church services that Sunday. But she barely took notice of all the whispering going on around her as the preacher droned on and on and on. She couldn't wait for him to finish so she could go outside and find Chris. Only then she would find out if he really planned to marry her or not. Sarah was so tense she nearly jumped out of her seat as thunder clapped loudly over the tiny church and rain began pouring down by the bucket load.

Finally, the service came to an end, and before the final note died on the final hymn, Sarah jumped out of her seat, and dashed outside, ignoring the rain. She almost tripped over Chris because he was sitting right there on the church steps waiting for her. People poured out around them, some staring with joy at the lovers, some staring with stern disapproval. Sarah didn't care; Chris was here and everything was going to be alright.

"Chris Larabee! Chris Larabee, you stole my girl and I'm calling ya out!" 

Chris closed his eyes. No, No, NO! Not here, not now. He turned around to face the man on the footpath that just called him out in front of the church. It was George Cromwell. He turned to Sarah, but she was already pushing him out of the way.

"George, what do you think you're doing?" she cried.

"He stole you from me and I ain't lettn' him get away with it!" George shouted back.

"George, please, don't do this," begged Sarah. "I made my choice. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but please don't do this."

"Shut up, Sarah," sneered George as he pushed her away. "Larabee's mine."

Sarah didn't fall when George pushed her, because Chris was right there to hold her up.

"Go back to the church, Sarah," ordered Chris sternly.

"No, Chris, I want to stand with you. I won't lose you like this."

"Go back to the church now, Sarah. I'll handle this." Chris's voice had gotten quieter and deadlier. Oh, Lord, now Sarah understood how Chris had gotten his reputation. She ran back to the church, slipping a little in the mud.

Chris waited until he knew Sarah was back at the church. He started to walk closer to George, but George called out, "Stay where you are, Larabee," and he moved his hands closer to his gun. Chris stopped moving forward but kept his hands away from his gun.

"Don't do this, Cromwell. Sarah made her choice. If you really cared for her, you'd respect that."

"Fuck you, Larabee! You tricked her with your fancy gun and your fancy reputation! She's mine! Want me to tell you what I'm goin' to do with her when you're dead?!" screamed George into the wind which had picked up considerably along with the rain.

There would be no reasoning with him. Slowly Chris brought his hands in front of his chest, then he slowly slid them down to his holster at the buckle. All the time he kept eye contact with George. Then he slowly undid his gunbuckle and let the holster slide to the ground with a thud. Sarah watched all this and heard the crowd that had formed near the church gasp almost in unison and start whispering again. 

Without further consideration of the situation, Chris turned his back on George Cromwell and walked over to Sarah, who stood apart from the crowd. He stood in front of her for moment, took her left hand and dropped to one knee. With his right hand, he pulled a ring out of his pocket.

"Sarah Connolly, would you do me the honor of marryin' me?" 

Sarah held his gaze and replied, "Yes, Chris Larabee, I will marry you." Chris slipped the ring onto Sarah's finger and almost immediately a loud scream pierced the air.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" 

*BANG*

Sarah gasped and looked up over Chris' head to see George Cromwell lying face down in the mud. She looked back at Chris who hadn't flinched or turned around. He still knelt there gazing at her with quiet confidence. He knew that George Cromwell was going to shoot him in the back. He also knew that Sheriff Wilmington had taken care of the situation. No guns would come between Sarah and him. Not now, not ever.

Slowly Chris rose to his feet and Sarah ran her fingers through his rain-soaked hair before she started kissing him. He kissed her back and kept kissing her until finally Buck, who had perched himself on the roof the church to keep a lookout for trouble, jumped down and tapped Chris on the shoulder.

"'Scuse me, folks, now I ain't real smart when it comes to weddin's, but ain't you supposed to kiss the bride *after* you've said your vows?" Chris and Sarah laughed a little. "Now, whadda ya say you two get yourselves into that there church and give us all a good weddin'.

Sarah shivered involuntarily in the cold. "I don't know if the reverend will marry us. Chris isn't a member and considering the circumstances. . ."

"Now, don't you worry about a thing Miss Sarah," grinned Buck. "This is gonna be an ol' fashioned shotgun weddin'. Only this time, I'll be aimin' at any preacher that refuses to perform the ceremony!" Buck turned and glared at the reverend who was huddled with the rest of the congregation. Both Chris and Sarah laughed out loud this time as Buck began to herd them, the congregation, and the reluctant reverend, back into the church.

****************************************

See Part 1 for disclaimer

Part 8

That night, Chris pulled a borrowed buckboard up to the front of the Connolly ranch. The rain had stopped and the air had cooled off even more. Sarah sadly noticed that there were several bags packed and sitting on the front porch. Someone from the congregation must have ridden out here and told her father what happened at the church while she, Chris, and Buck had a small reception at the saloon. Some of the women from the congregation gave Sarah fresh clothing to wear and Buck made arrangements for Chris and Sarah to stay in the hotel that night, his gift to the bride and groom. 

"Why don't you go inside and try talkin' to him while I get the bags," suggested Chris.

Sarah nodded, but couldn't speak because of the lump in her throat. She walked up the porch steps and opened the front door. Her father sat in front of the fire. He didn't move or speak when she entered. 

"Daddy." No response. "Daddy, please, I love him. I want to be with him, but that doesn't mean that I love you any less." Still nothing. "Daddy, I don't want to leave you like this, not talking to me at all."

"Then stay with me," said Hank. "It's not too late, you don't have to go with him."

"But I *want* to go with him, Daddy. Why can't you understand that?" Tears formed in Sarah's eyes. "Why are you making me have to choose between the two of you?"

But Hank would not yield. "If you walk out that door, Sarah, I won't let you back in." And then he fell back into his stone, cold silence. 

Sarah cried a little and then leaned forward and placed a kiss on her father's cheek, which he did not acknowledge. Then she turned and walked out the front door. Chris met her by the buckboard.

"Are you ready?" He asked with more meaning than the question implied.

Sarah wiped away the few lingering tears in her eyes. "Yes, I'm ready." He helped her on board and then headed back to town.

*****************************

*Nathan's Clinic*

Chris had probably talked more this past hour than he had in full year that Vin had known him. Finally he stopped with his head bowed down. Vin wondered if maybe his friend had drifted off to a place where Vin couldn't touch him. Finally, Chris raised his head again because he still hadn't answered Vin's question.

"Nine years we had together. We didn't know if it was real when we got married. We *made* it real by workin' hard and sacrificin' a lot and talkin' to each other. Even when we fought, and believe me we had some tremendous fights, we knew we were fightin' to keep it real. Those first few years were probably the toughest I had ever experienced." Chris paused for a moment and his voice got even quieter. "Havin' Buck show up on our doorstep after the first three months, made it a little easier."

"Why is that?" questioned Vin.

"The pressure was so great. Tryin' to build the ranch, gettin' a bank loan to buy stock, lookin' for contracts. . .when all I really wanted to do was be with Sarah. Buck had left his job as sheriff to wander around the country in search of new conquests, or so he said. He stopped by only to say hi and see how we were doin'. I asked if he would help me with some fencing I was tryin' to put up and he wound up stayin' with us on and off for the next nine years. He was there when Sarah and I needed him. He took some of the pressure off me, and that allowed me to be a real husband to Sarah and a father to Adam."

"You got that right." Chris looked over and saw Buck standing in the doorway.

"How long have you been standin' there?" questioned Chris.

"Long enough, my friend. How ya holding up, pard?" Buck asked Vin.

Vin shrugged, "Feelin' better, I suppose." He looked at Buck as though seeing him for the first time. He also looked at Chris the same way. He understood a little bit better about what he was searching for. He also understood why Chris wore black all the time, even if it one only one article of clothing these days. At least he knew that even if he never found a women who would love him as Sarah loved Chris, he knew that he had found friends who would stand by him no matter where life lead him.

Buck took off his jacket and settled himself into the chair on the opposite side of Vin's bed. "Now that little boy of Chris's, well, he may have had his mama's brains and his papa's spirit, but he got his good looks from his old uncle Buck." Buck grinned in Chris's direction.

Chris snorted lightly. Buck had teased him enough about Adam's brown hair and blue eyes after he was born, but not since he died. After Sarah and Adam were murdered, he had pushed Buck away and kept him away until they met up again three years later in Four Corners. Surprisingly, talking about Adam didn't hurt quite as much as it used to. He still ached, but it was an ache he could bear now. Another small victory.

Chris noticed that Vin had started squirming under the covers. "Your back hurtn' again?" 

Vin looked ashamed, but nodded his head. "Buck, give me a hand?" Together, Chris and Buck slowly rolled Vin over onto his stomach and adjusted his pillow so that he could breath easy as he rested. Chris checked the bandage that covered Vin's wound. There was no new blood, so he left the bandage alone. 

Buck and Chris sat and watched over their friend. After a few minutes, Vin's breath evened out and deepened as he fell asleep. 

"Buck," said Chris.

"Yeah, Chris," replied Buck.

"I just wanted to tell you. . .I'm sorry." Chris looked up from Vin to meet Buck's gaze.

"For what?" Buck looked a little confused.

"For pushin' you away for all those years. I know you loved Sarah and Adam almost as much as I did. I know you really hurt when they died. I just couldn't deal with your pain and mine. And. . .I'm really sorry." Chris searched Buck's eyes for forgiveness.

"Chris, I won't lie to you. It hurt me real bad when you shut me out. I needed my best friend to forgive me for keepin' him away from home when his family needed him. But if your offerin' forgiveness, I'll gratefully accept." 

Chris stretched out his hand across Vin's bed and offered Buck his hand. Buck gave Chris's hand a slow, firm shake. 

"Nathan should be up here in a few minutes to take a shift watchin' Vin. Whattya say I buy you a drink, pard, for old times sake." 

"Sounds good to me." And for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spread across Chris's features.

The End


End file.
